Morning poems
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Song from Aella
© Thomas Chatterton
O SING unto my roundelay,
O drop the briny tear with me;
Dance no more at holyday,
Like a running river be:
Narva and Mored
© Thomas Chatterton
Recite the loves of Narva and Mored
The priest of Chalma's triple idol said.
High from the ground the youthful warriors sprung,
Loud on the concave shell the lances rung:
The Barrier
© Paul Laurence Dunbar
The Midnight wooed the Morning Star,
And prayed her: "Love come nearer;
Your swinging coldly there afar
To me but makes you dearer."
Morning
© Paul Laurence Dunbar
The mist has left the greening plain,
The dew-drops shine like fairy rain,
The coquette rose awakes again
Her lovely self adorning.
The Rock Cries Out to Us Today
© Maya Angelou
A Rock, A River, A Tree
Hosts to species long since departed,
Mark the mastodon.
The dinosaur, who left dry tokens
Million Man March Poem
© Maya Angelou
The night has been long,
The wound has been deep,
The pit has been dark,
And the walls have been steep.
Sing of the Banner at Day-Break.
© Walt Whitman
POET.
O A NEW song, a free song,
Flapping, flapping, flapping, flapping, by sounds, by voices clearer,
By the winds voice and that of the drum,
Now List to my Mornings Romanza.
© Walt Whitman
1
NOW list to my mornings romanzaI tell the signs of the Answerer;
To the cities and farms I sing, as they spread in the sunshine before me.
Hours Continuing Long.
© Walt Whitman
HOURS continuing long, sore and heavy-hearted,
Hours of the dusk, when I withdraw to a lonesome and unfrequented spot, seating myself,
leaning
my face in my hands;
A Broadway Pageant.
© Walt Whitman
1
OVER the western sea, hither from Niphon come,
Courteous, the swart-cheekd two-sworded envoys,
Leaning back in their open barouches, bare-headed, impassive,
Warble for Lilac-Time.
© Walt Whitman
WARBLE me now, for joy of Lilac-time,
Sort me, O tongue and lips, for Natures sake, and sweet lifes sakeand
deaths the same as lifes,
Souvenirs of earliest summerbirds eggs, and the first berries;
A Boston Ballad, 1854.
© Walt Whitman
TO get betimes in Boston town, I rose this morning early;
Heres a good place at the cornerI must stand and see the show.
Clear the way there, Jonathan!
We TwoHow Long We were Foold.
© Walt Whitman
WE twohow long we were foold!
Now transmuted, we swiftly escape, as Nature escapes;
We are Naturelong have we been absent, but now we return;
We become plants, leaves, foliage, roots, bark;
An Old Mans Thought of School.
© Walt Whitman
AN old mans thought of School;
An old man, gathering youthful memories and blooms, that youth itself cannot.
Now only do I know you!
Proud Music of The Storm.
© Walt Whitman
1
PROUD music of the storm!
Blast that careers so free, whistling across the prairies!
Strong hum of forest tree-tops! Wind of the mountains!
Sleepers, The.
© Walt Whitman
1
I WANDER all night in my vision,
Stepping with light feet, swiftly and noiselessly stepping and stopping,
Bending with open eyes over the shut eyes of sleepers,
Passage to India.
© Walt Whitman
1
SINGING my days,
Singing the great achievements of the present,
Singing the strong, light works of engineers,
Camps of Green.
© Walt Whitman
NOT alone those camps of white, O soldiers,
When, as orderd forward, after a long march,
Footsore and weary, soon as the light lessend, we halted for the night;
Some of us so fatigued, carrying the gun and knapsack, dropping asleep in our tracks;
This Compost.
© Walt Whitman
1
SOMETHING startles me where I thought I was safest;
I withdraw from the still woods I loved;
I will not go now on the pastures to walk;
Faces.
© Walt Whitman
1
SAUNTERING the pavement, or riding the country by-roadlo! such faces!
Faces of friendship, precision, caution, suavity, ideality;
The spiritual, prescient facethe always welcome, common, benevolent face,
